The Alpha's Baby by M. E. James Epub
The Alpha'south Baby
By Yard.E. James
Copyright © 2015 M.E. James
Encompass Design past: Mina Carter
ISBN: 978-0-9864137-1-one
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this volume, or portions thereof, in whatever class.
Sugar and Spice Press
North Carolina, United states
world wide web.sugarnspicepress.com
Prologue
A BMW barreled right toward Emmy Ellison. Vivid headlights blinded her and the scream of the car'southward horn echoed in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her hands in front of her face to protect herself. In that moment, she was certain that she was going to die.
Right before the machine mowed her over, a hailstorm of memories washed over her. She remembered her mom and dad constantly arguing when she was a child. She remembered becoming a chef and opening her ain baker called Sweet Delights. Unfortunately, she likewise remembered the heartbreak she felt when she learned her employees thought she was a hard donkey.
As she screamed, unsure of whether her cries were because of the budgeted doom or her painful memories, she felt the touch on, though not from the management that she was expecting. She was lifted off of her feet and thrown to the left. Though she prepared herself for a collision, ii warm artillery wrapped around her, keeping her from being injured every bit she toppled to the ground. Finally, she finally opened her eyes once more.
She saw only grayness.
Information technology took her a confused moment to realize that she was peering straight into a pair of optics. Gorgeous gray eyes, in fact. She sucked in air and realized that she'd but been rescued by a dazzling human being. She studied his face and saw auburn waves falling over a wide forehead. Nighttime day-old growth dusted a strong jaw. Lips were thin only utterly kissable. The man looked so divine she wondered whether she'd died later all.
"Are yous an angel?" she groaned.
"No." The gray-eyed homo chuckled.
The chuckle was what woke her up. Afterwards all, Emmy wasn't the sort of woman who people normally chuckled at. She blinked away her surprise and slowly sat upward, shocked that the only matter that hurt was her knee.
Now that she'd recovered enough from the shocking come across to think clearly, she looked at the BMW that had virtually mowed her over. She could see a man sitting in the driver's seat. Acrimony surged through her. That driver could have killed her, and he was going to get a piece of her listen because of it. After all, Emmy was many things, just timid was not one of them.
She lurched to her feet, prepare to use the discussion asshole and all of its creative synonyms, when the BMW's commuter looked at her—then stepped on the gas.
The coward.
No, coward was likewise weak of a discussion to describe the commuter. He was a son of a bitch.
1 2d she was standing there watching the BMW sail away, the adjacent, she was seizing her shoe and pulling information technology from her pes. With a wail of rage, she threw her shoe at the car. Naturally, it missed the BMW by a mile and bounced in the middle of the intersection. Damn. At present she'd lost a perfectly good stiletto on summit of everything else. What a twenty-four hours.
As she stared after the BMW, wishing she had telekinesis then she could hurl his car into cyberspace, her hero placed his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened. Oh God, she must wait like a total lunatic. It was just that she was having the nearly awful day and…and…Oh, who was she kidding? She would accept thrown the shoe if she was having the all-time 24-hour interval ever. Her temper was so bad that she was lucky she hadn't been arrested for shoving somebody downwards a flight of stairs.
Even so, she wanted to apologize for her less-than-attractive display.
"I'm sad you had to come across that." She winced, scratching the back of her head.
"Don't apologize," he said. "I think information technology'south a damn shame your shoe didn't paring his machine."
Okay, she liked this guy. Funny how his violent streak was even more than appealing to her than the fact that he'd simply kept her from meeting Saint Peter at the young historic period of 20-eight.
"I wish information technology would have dented more than his automobile." She wished it would have dented his skull.
The human being looked similar he wanted to smile only didn't. His gaze—oh boy, his optics were gorgeous—dropped downward to her knee.
"Y'all okay?" he asked.
"Yep, besides the burning rage." She cracked her duke.
"Are you certain?" He still stared down at her genu.
Frowning, she followed his gaze. Sure enough, blood was oozing from her right kneecap. Oh goody. Now she wasn't just an angry psycho. At present she was a bleeding, angry psycho. She'd been besides mad at Mr. BMW to pay much attending to the state of her leg, only now that she saw the injury, it injure similar a bitch. No, scratch that, information technology hurt similar ten bitches. She winced.
"I could be better," she admitted. "At least I simply hurt my knee. If information technology wasn't for you lot, my brain would be oozing out of my skull."
He winced at her imagery. "I'1000 merely glad I was able to help yous."
"Well, thanks." She paused and looked around. "Where did you lot come up from, anyway? I was on the crosswalk alone when the BMW headed toward me."
The guy's grin lessened past several molars. She had the feeling she'd said the wrong affair, but for the life of her, she wasn't sure what she'd said that was then bad.
"Permit's merely fix up your human knee, shall we?" he asked.
"Okay." She shrugged.
"Where exercise you live?" he asked. "After I aid you get home, we can clean your injury."
She lived some altitude away. The truth was, she'd wanted to escape Seattle for a picayune while and had concluded up in Edmonds. Sure, Edmonds was merely eleven miles from Seattle, merely with big-metropolis traffic, she wouldn't be at her apartment for at least a half an hour.
"I alive in Seattle," she admitted.
"That's not skillful." He whistled and shook his head.
"Indeed." Her car upholstery was going to be ruined by blood if she drove at present. She wondered what her mom would think if she called to enquire how to become blood off her seats.
"My place is just a cake abroad," he said. "I tin aid you become cleaned up at that place."
"Are you certain?" She examined the homo. "You've helped me so much already."
"What, do you really think I'm going to let you stand out in the centre of a crosswalk bleeding to expiry?" He raised an eyebrow. Damn, she wanted to learn how he did that so perfectly.
"The guy in the BMW had no trouble leaving me bleeding," she said.
"The guy in the BMW is an ass," he said.
"And you're not?" she asked.
"I can be an ass sometimes." He grinned. It could have been her imagination, but she swore that his grin was wolfish. A arctic ran down her spine.
"I guess information technology would exist okay to get to your place." She hesitated. "I just feel bad putting you out then much, Mr.…"
"Just call me Sebastian." The homo nodded at her.
Sebastian. A sexy name for a sexy man. The only name that would have been more befitting was Mr. Gorgeous, and she wasn't sure that would have gone over too well in high school.
"I'1000 Emmy," she said.
"Curt for Emelia, by take a chance?" he asked.
"Nope." She kicked a rock that was underfoot. "Emmy. Simply Emmy."
"Hmm." He looked at her. "It suits you."
She hoped that was a skillful thing.
"Thanks."
I think.
Instead of answering, Sebastian only grinned at her in a roguish, I-eat-women-for-breakfast kind of style. Equally he started to walk and she followed, she had to remind herself that he'd simply watched her hurl a stiletto at a car while screaming like a lunatic. An eighty-yr-old homeless woman would have had more of a chance with him than she did at this point.
Muttering under breath, she hobbled forrard a step and winced every bit pain shot upwardly her leg. Manifestly anger was an amazing allaying because, now that she wasn't pissed off enough to spit out sour words, she was half-certain that her leg was about to fall off. She sucked in air and tried to remain stiff, only her pain must have shown on her face up anyhow because he gazed at her with concern.
Sebastian wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her and said, "Let me help y'all."
Her face flushed. God, she couldn't recollect the concluding fourth dimension she'd permit a man help her with anything. She was Miss Self-Sufficient. Still her leg was hurting pretty bad, and she had to admit that she rather enjoyed the way Sebastian's hard biceps felt pressing against her soft shoulder.
She walked two steps pressed confronting him, and then three, four, 5, six…Just as her knee hurt then much she was because amputation, Sebastian distracted her by opening his mouth to talk.
"Then what do you like to do besides throw shoes at cars?" he asked.
Information technology took her a moment to realize that he was teasing her.
"I like to broil cupcakes." She licked her lips at the idea of frosted cake goodness.
"Cupcakes, huh?" He grinned and licked his lips every bit if she was presenting him with one.
"They're fun to decorate." She cringed as she took a step.
"And what practise you do for a living?" He steadied her equally she limped.
"I own a baker."
"You lot own one?" He gave her a one time-over. "Yous look pretty young to own a business."
"Owning a baker was my dream." She smiled every bit she idea about all she had accomplished. "I went to Seattle Culinary Academy and then started the bakery once I graduated. To exist honest, I was terrified. College was expensive, and I was encumbered by a lot of student loans. Only my bakery turned out to exist a major success."
His eyes widened. "Well, I'm impressed."
She shrugged. Despite the fact she owned her own business organization, her social life was a major joke. Her best friend was a morbidly obese cat named Pickles, and the final guy she dated had said that she was too intimidating to exist his girlfriend. Because of that, she was at the bakery xx-4 hours a day. The only people she was close to were her eighty-five-twelvemonth-erstwhile neighbor, Mary Lou Parkinson, and her parents. Still, she wasn't about to share that with a perfect stranger.
"And you?" she asked. "Besides saving women from being flattened by cars, what do you do?"
The words made him pause and stiffen. His nonanswer was answer enough.
"Ah, so you're unemployed," she concluded.
Stupid damn oral fissure!
she thought, realizing that she'd said the wrong thing. Again.
"I'm not unemployed." Sebastian looked amused instead of offended. "It'due south just difficult to explain my job."
"What, practise you exercise something strange?" She scrutinized him.
"It'due south non actually strange." He paused. "I would call myself a group leader, I gauge."
"Like a managing director?" he said.
"Yeah."
"I could see you doing that job." She nodded. "You have a managing sort of personality."
"Is that your style of saying that I'm bossy?" He chuckled.
"I don't know yous well plenty to say that you're snobby, but you have been managing this situation with me pretty well, oasis't you?" she asked.
"Well, saving women from being hit by BMWs is a hobby of mine." The guy gave a mock sigh as if rescuing women was the hardest job in the earth. "I'm used to this."
"No wonder yous're so good at it." Blood trickled downward her leg as she spoke.
"Information technology's a gift." He grinned and tugged at her arm.
"Lucky." She wrinkled her olfactory organ, then cringed as her knee throbbed. "My only gift is
pushing
people in front of BMWs."
To her surprise, Sebastian threw dorsum his caput and laughed. His laughter was as gorgeous as his face. The deep, throaty sound filled her soul with a foreign sort of warmth that she'd never known before. She examined him, thinking information technology was unfair that God had made him so perfect while she could hardly get out of bed in the morning without falling on her face.
"I've never met anyone similar you, you lot know," he said once he'd stopped laughing.
"I'k non sure the world could handle more than one of me." And she had a feeling her employees would agree.
He shook his head merely tugged at her arm again.
"By the way, we're hither." He pointed at the brick building beside her. "Distracting you from your pain past talking seems to have worked."
In surprise, she glanced upwards at the building to her right.
"That was fast," she said, trying to ignore the way her leg ached.
"Told you lot my place was shut."
Sebastian took a step toward his apartment door, simply she froze. Growing up in Seattle had taught her to never go into a man's place alone unless you lot were well acquainted. And even though Sebastian had rescued her from being slaughtered past a fancy car, the truth of the thing was, she didn't know him that well. She studied the man, her lips puckered, and searched his face for whatsoever sign of sick intent. What if she was raped?
She gave a derisive snort. Oh, who was she kidding? This homo wasn't going to rape her. In fact, chances were higher that she'd rape him. Hell, with how she felt, she might start humping his leg like a hormone-driven Chihuahua. The idea fabricated her wince. Unfortunately, Sebastian noticed.
"What's incorrect?" Sebastian raised an countenance.
"Nix."
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